Appointment With Death (Non-Fiction)

Come now; let us leave His time on earth was coming to an end. He walked on with his eleven disciples to the garden. The night was dark. The night was silent. The night was morbid. He stifled. His disciples looked on He took three of them with him. He walked a few yards and unable to restrain, fell with his face to the ground and broke down. As for the three, they looked on exhausted from sorrow. He came back for a word with them and felt disappointedthey were failing. He asked them to gather themselves, went, and prayed a second time. The second time, once again he found them sleeping. He went back again and poured his heart out. The third time, he knew as all things, his time had come. He got up and rebuked his disciples for being so weak. Rise, Let us go! Here comes my betrayer! Things happened in a flash- a kiss, a slash and a healing. He walked on, but now that a band of men accompanied him with clubs and swords. Disciples slunk behind. He was led away. He was charged. He was led from one jury to another. Then, - the anticipated: He was sentenced to the most painful death. All for someone who would not even think of snapping a reed or smoldering a wick. He was flogged. He was slapped. He was spat upon. He was made to carry an old rugged tree, on which he was hung not, but a few minutes later. His attire was not an exquisite one: Nails pierced his feet and hands. A crown adorned his head. And, his body was pierced with a spear. All for you and me. Relatives and women sobbed noiselessly at a distance. Disciples stood at a distance. He hung all alone on the tree with a few Roman soldiers and a centurion for company. What could pain more than negligence from loved ones? What could pain more than unaccounted suffering? As his life, his appointment with death was tried and tangled in every way you and I could possibly imagine. And all, for a one so blameless.